Kat's Rambling Mind

As I sit here on a rainy Sunday afternoon, I’m thankful for a day of rest. I’m in my favorite spot, with my beloved kitty, my blanket, and my laptop. I am content. The sound of the rain is a nice complement to the tapping sounds of my fingers on the keyboard, and quiet rolls of distant thunder remind me that a line of spring storms is passing through.

From the time I was a kid, Sundays were always my favorite day of the week. I loved getting up for more relaxed weekend breakfasts, which my father usually cooked on Sundays. I would always try to have him make pancakes, my favorite, and he would occasionally indulge me. I would usually awaken to the familiar smells of coffee and bacon, bacon being a once-a-week treat.

After breakfast, of course, we kids got ready for Sunday school and church. Church was a big part of our childhood growing up, and a big part of life in a small Georgia mountain town. I had my own small white Bible that I carried with me every Sunday, along with patent Mary Jane shoes in colors appropriate for the current season, either black or white.

Our Saturday night baths had us all clean, so a washcloth, a hairbrush, and a toothbrush were all we needed to look our best. My mother tried her best to tame and decorate my hair, adorning it with bows or barrettes. Unfortunately, my hair was a little lacking, and so she sometimes relied on hair tape or even plain old scotch tape under the decoration in order to hold it in place for a couple of hours.

We lived next door to the First Baptist Church in Cleveland, Georgia, and most Sundays we’d walk over for the services. I enjoyed the solemnity and pageantry of the service, and even before I truly understood the purpose and message, church made me feel contented and safe. Preacher Robert Jones was my pastor as a child, and when I was twelve, I answered the call and walked down the center aisle of the church to the strains of “Just As I Am” to accept Christ into my heart and my life.

In my teenage and adult years, I drifted away from the church for a quite some time (I’ve since returned), but my love for Sundays didn’t change. I’ve always tried to make it a point to rest on Sunday afternoon, usually to recharge for the upcoming week. Reading a book, watching a show or movie, writing, or maybe a little crochet work is my idea of a great Sunday. Sometimes, I like to fall back on tradition and maybe go for a drive if the weather is nice.

As I mentioned, I returned to church as an adult, because I was seeking something that I couldn’t quite find, and I had an idea that church was the place to look. I was also seeking something bigger than myself, a way to reach others and to learn from others, and a sense of community. I wanted to return to the path of following the teachings of Jesus Christ. Not surprisingly, that same feeling of comfort returned to me as I attended. I now feel grounded, with a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path (Psalm 119:105).

And so, as I enjoy my rainy Sunday afternoon, I’m thinking about the week that just passed and preparing for the one that’s upcoming. I feel incredibly blessed and grateful to have such luxury, to be able to spend one day a week in comfort and quiet repose. It truly feeds my soul to rely on my traditions and faith. What are some of your favorite Sunday traditions or rituals?

Oh, and have an excellent week!